


The Rest is Unwritten

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, no actual speaking just john thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 22:18:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8865493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Water's leaking in his eyes, and his clothes are completely soaked but, God, Sherlock has never looked more beautiful.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking about Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield one day and it evolved into this. I'm Sorry.

Somehow they've ended up like this, the two of them. Standing face to face (finally) in the pouring rain, car idling behind them. The faraway sound of the radio blaring from inside just loud enough to hear.

They aren't saying anything, just looking at each other, and somehow its the longest, and clearest conversation they've ever had. John's never seen Sherlock's face this open, this sincere, ever in the entirety of their friendship. And if he looks closely he can see every single ounce of emotion he feels for Sherlock returned in his eyes. It makes his hands grow clammy, and heart skyrockets into his throat.

John can't focus on anything but the radio behind him, and he's suddenly aware of Natasha Bedingfield yelling at him to release his inhibitions, but he thinks he might die if he looks away from Sherlock now. Water's leaking in his eyes, and his clothes are completely soaked but, God, Sherlock has never looked more beautiful.

The taller man's breath puffs in his face, and he's immediately aware of how close theyre standing; its dizzying. He's never felt more invincible. John surges forward, the radio screams at him to feel the rain on his skin, but he can't feel anything but Sherlock's hands. They're cupping his face, combing through his hair, lowering to his hips and gripping them like he's anchoring himself. Sherlock's lips are soft and he kisses gently like he's afraid of hurting him, this thought makes him smile into Sherlock's mouth, and pull away.

Despite the frigid cold of the rain, Sherlock's face is flushed and he gives a small smile. His curls are plastered to his face, and John has never been more thankful to live in rainy London in his life.


End file.
